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The Second Session

  Dave and Marie had only been married for eighteen months, but this was already their second visit to a marriage counselor. They quietly waited in the office for the session to begin. The large room had a strange set of aromas: old, dingy air freshener mingled with clean, fresh wood. The desk in the corner was brand new, a nice cherry color with a smooth, shimmering finish; several specks of styrofoam still clung to the bottom of it. The couple sat on an ugly, grey, leather couch that was much more comfortable than it looked. Dave was nestled in the left corner while his wife occupied the opposite end, leaving the space between them bathed in awkwardness.

  Marie was dressed conservatively, wearing a red jacket and corduroy slacks. She sat quietly on her side of the couch, her legs crossed with her hands resting in her lap. She was tired of waiting and visibly frustrated. Her thoughts were almost constantly disrupted as Dave continuously shifted his weight around, causing the couch to blurt out obnoxious noises. He was wearing dark jeans, covered in paint stains and tiny rips, with a wrinkled, green shirt whose screen printed logo was deeply faded. The differences in their wardrobes were as different as their ideas for dealing with the several problematic issues latched onto their relationship.

  Dave sloshed his tongue around the inside of his mouth, uninterested in the blandness of his surroundings. A large, lone reclining chair was set directly across from the couch, blankly staring at him. The walls were a boring off-white with pale, pastel blue stripes running vertically every few inches. The subtle color of the stripes almost blended into the blandness of the walls. The most boring aspect of the office, as far as Dave was concerned, was the carpet. It was a deep, dark brown and offered no pattern to follow, no escape from the dull environment of the office.

  The only bit of character the room carried was a large bay window on the wall opposite where the
couch sat. The office was on the second floor of a building at the top of a hill and not much could be seen out of the window. Dave rested his head against the back of the couch and stared out the transparent portal. It offered little in the means of an escape, since the only visible object was the top of a large, old tree. The red stained leaves steadily swayed back and forth, waving at Dave, as if to acknowledge that he was trapped inside.

  Marie let out jets of huff every few seconds, a failed attempt to relay her annoyance to Dave, who continued to stare forward while constantly shifting around. A small piece of the office suddenly came alive; the front door swayed open with a loud, irritating creak. In walked the man the couple had been waiting for. He carried with him a thin manila folder. He wore a thick coat of arrogance that was draped over a brand new, dark blue suit. With an apology and a brief greeting, he sat down in the chair across from the couch. With his head cocked to the side, Dave let out a long, deep, irritated breath. The counselor opened the folder, lifted a pen out from his breast pocket and clicked it open. Without looking up from the contents of his file, he began talking.

  “Welcome to your second session. Has anything changed, for better or worse, since our last meeting?”

  Dave failed to pay much attention since he had found something to distract him from any discussion. Marie and the man had short interjections back and forth but the conversation between Marie and the counselor began to grow muffled, as if taking place underwater. Dave’s distraction came in the form of the one blemish in the perfectly boring room: a small tear in the wallpaper that showed off a hole in the wall itself. He focused on it, following the tributaries of cracks jutting out from it and tracing them back to their starting point. Suddenly, the muffled noises became louder, the sounds more recognizable as words. A small, warm hand tightly gripping his arm forced him to pull away from the small imperfection.

  “What?!” Dave was annoyed by the distraction from his distraction.

  “We’re here for a reason, David.” Marie felt irritated and embarrassed.

  “Yeah. Sorry. What were we talking about?” Dave did his best impression of concern.

  “Do you feel like anything has changed since our session last month?” Every word out of the counselor’s mouth was clear and calm.

  “Um, well…” Dave smacked his lips as he looked at Marie, hoping she would guide his answer

  “Obviously nothing has changed.” Marie frustratingly answered for him.

  “That’s not true. A few things have changed.”

  “Such as?” The counselor’s words held a hint of excitement.

  “I mean…well…uhhh” A strange, throaty gargle was all that came out of Dave’s mouth

  “See? Just like I said.” Marie almost seemed proud in her correctness.

  “Now, Marie, it has only been a month. There is no one thing that can fix a marriage in only a month. This process takes time. You need to understand that as well, Dave.” The counselor spoke with an annoying level of confidence.

  Dave rubbed his neck as he let out an audible sigh, his eyes ventured around the office, seeking out another imperfection to latch his attention on to. His search was interrupted by a loud, loaded comment that shot out of Marie’s mouth like a bullet from a gun.

  “Could you at least ACT like you want to be here, David?!”

  “Did I say I didn’t want to be here?” He became rigid and defensive.

  “Don’t pull that act here. Please? We weren’t even done talking and you tried to zone out. We’ve barely started and you’re already going off on one of your damn daydreams! Its bad enough you pull this crap at home, but could you please not do it here? For me?”

  “Whatever…” Dave crossed his arm and slouched back into the couch.

  “This is what I get to deal with every day. It’s like dealing with a child sometimes.” Exaggerated hand motions drove home Marie’s frustration.

  The counselor shifted his body to face Marie, becoming only a concerned listener. It only took a few moments before Dave longed for an escape. He turned his attention back to the hole in the wall, once again insulating himself from the conversation. Only a few seconds after he began to wonder about the depth of it he noticed what seemed like movement inside the hole, a shadowy shifting. He became intently concentrated on it, eager to know what was moving around inside. A small object began to protrude from the opening. It resembled a moist, black, animal-like nose. Dave was partially alarmed by the strange article but the absurd oddity of it was far more interesting than the conversation happening mere inches from him. He lightly rubbed his eyes and re­­­-focused on the distraction. To Dave’s amazement, the most incredible thing happened: birthed from the crevice was the entire head of a very curious and excited chocolate Labrador. The dog moved its head in every possible direction, attempting to escape its stock-like trap. A large, pink, flopping tongue fell out of the creature’s mouth. While looking directly at Dave, it began to pant and smile. As Dave longed to play with his dog, he was abruptly pulled back into reality.

  “Sometimes I feel like he cares more about his dog than me.” Marie’s words were heavy.

  “What?! No, I don’t! That’s bullshi-”

  “Dave, please calm down. Throwing up a defensive attitude will not help resolve these feelings. Listen to what your wife has to say and then rebut with your feelings. Remember, compromise is the key here, but we cannot achieve compromise if there isn’t communication. So, please, go on Marie. Explain WHY you feel this way.”

  “I leave the house and he’s with the dog. I get home and he’s with the dog. He plans the dog’s walks to coincide with cleaning up after dinner. He even lets him sleep in the bed with us when it storms outside.”

  “Because he’s scared!”

  “Dave, please. Let her finish. Anything else?” The counselor was stern.

  “I don’t even want to keep going. He’s just going to keep interrupting.”

  “Restraining those feelings can only make the situation worse. You have to let Dave know how you really feel.”

  “Is it a crime to care about my dog?!” Dave’s tone suggested he disregarded all instruction from the counselor.

  “You spoil him, David.” The phrase was blunt, meant to sting.

  “I do NOT spoil him!”

  “Really?” Marie pursed her lips and rolled her eyes, “When you cook steaks on the grill, the grill I bought you for your birthday, how does the dog’s steak get cooked?”

  “Medium rare--” Dave hesitated for a second, realizing the gravity in his answer, “--but, giving him a steak every once in a while doesn’t mean I spoil him.”

  “I guess you’re right.” Marie’s words gave up.

  “What do you want, Marie? You want your steaks medium rare? You want me to spoil you?”

  “I want you to care.”

  The words were stiff and leaked frustrated emotion. They forced Dave’s gut to tense and his pride to shrink. He twisted his head, and gave Marie an apologetic look and half-embarrassed smirk. Dave returned to his position, slouched into the crevice of the couch, waiting for the discussion to once again fade into murmurs. It didn’t take long. Marie continued talking to the counselor while Dave noticed something odd by the door. He could see shadows dancing under it. He noticed the handle start to turn, slowly clicking its way around. The latch popped, but neither Marie nor the counselor seemed to notice. As the door slowly opened, Dave braced himself for the screech of its hinges.

  Surprised by the absence of the irritating noise, Dave was now hyper-curious to see who was entering the room. An older woman shuffled into the office. She seemed familiar to Dave, but she was too far away for him to be completely accurate in his assumption. She had poufy, grey hair that made shapes like clouds, a never-ending smile and an apron covered in multicolored hand swipes. The woman turned toward Dave, holding a stiff, metal tray filled with freshly-baked chocolate chip cookies. Still warm, the chocolate was still moist and melting out of the soft, brown dough. Dave sat up and slowly inched forward in an attempt to smell his favorite childhood smell. It took all of his strength to restrain himself from reaching out for the delicious treats. His eyes swirled around the room, checking on his spouse and the counselor, who were still having an engaged conversation. He awkwardly stared at Marie, wondering how long it would take before she noticed his mother standing in the room.

  “David?” The counselor was firm with his word.

  “Wha-huh? Yeah?” A hint of panic hid in his voice

  “I asked you about your relationship with your mother. How is it?”

  “Um…fine I guess.” His eyes darted around the room, making sure his encounter was simply a dream.

  “Just fine? How often do you speak with her?”

  “I don’t know. Like, two, three times a week, maybe.”

  “What do you talk about?”

  “Well, lots of different stuff. My dad. Work. The dog. Um…”

  “Do you speak with her about Marie? About your marriage?”

  “I-uh-well…” The question seemed to make Dave uncomfortable.

  “His mother doesn’t like me.” Marie’s remark was confident.

  “Is that true?” The counselor was overtaken by curiosity.

  “No, it’s not. Ok. My mom doesn’t hate you. We’ve been over this a million times. Marie refuses to believe that my mom actually likes her.”

  “Why do you feel like Dave’s mother dislikes you?” The counselor shifted his gaze between the married couple, carefully watching the reactions.

  “O, God. Dave and his mother have the most clichéd relationship I have ever seen a mother and son have.” The confidence in her words was joined by years of annoyance.

  “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Concern and surprise shared space on Dave’s face.

  “Growing up, she did everything for him.” Marie directed her concerns at the counselor, “She even did everything for him when we were in college.”

  “Look, just because you hate your parents doesn’t mean you have to take shots at my mom. SHE cares about me. She wants me to be happy.”

  “MY parents aren’t trying to ruin our marriage, David. Do you honestly think that I don’t want you to be happy? That I don’t care about you?”

  “I didn’t mean it like that. I just…well…” Dave stumbled for a rebuttal.

  “You wanna know what Dave’s mom thinks of our marriage?” Marie disregarded the current back-and-forth and began venting to the counselor, “She sees our marriage as me stealing and corrupting her precious, little baby Dave.”

  “I-uh,” Dave could do nothing but frustratedly laugh with each remark that stabbed his lifelong relationship with his mother.

  The conversation shifted to the couple’s relationships with people outside their families. Marie began talking about her one night a week where she goes out with her girl friends, often to a dance club or to a local bar for failed attempts at mastering its weekly karaoke competition. Dave mentioned how he often spends a few nights a week with his friends. Once his brief statement was concluded, Marie began a small tangent, lined with complaints, about him coming home drunk, his lack of reassuring phone calls and, most importantly, his overall maturity. Dave had heard all of this before, but he refused to counter Marie’s sharp comments because he knew that a heated argument would break out if he attempted to. An argument that was impossible for him to win. This specific argument had been a constant fixture in the couple’s four year relationship. Avoiding it altogether, Dave turned his attention to the large bay window, anxious to find new distractions in the confines of the office.

  He watched the tops of the red stained leaves sway back and forth; they held a steady rhythm of peaking up through the window and quickly hiding again. This distraction acted as a sort of metronome, not helping Dave keep time, though, but helping him lose it instead. He went back into a slouched position with his head cocked to the side. This was the best angle he could find that allowed him to see the entirety of the window. The foliage seemed to move farther away with every whip upwards. All of a sudden, the leaves began to morph into strange shapes. Suddenly, out of the thin, stale air of the office, ghostly, disembodied voices began to speak out.

  The image on the other side of the glass began to become more and more blurred. The blue sky started to take on a green tint, which caused the ruby colored leaves to stand out as they swung upwards. Dave blinked his eyes for a second and as he opened them, he swore that a loud cheer echoed through the office. With his thumb and index finger, he quickly rubbed his eyes. He stretched and shut his eyes in an attempt to clear his vision. To his surprise, the voices he heard had taken physical form; a small gathering of men now stood in front of the window, waving their arms and chanting loudly. It only took a few seconds before Dave realized the group was an eclectic collection of his friends: a few from high school, several from college and even a couple from work. The bay window was no more, replaced by a large, crystal clear sheet of high definition plasma. The green tint that used to be the sky was now freshly cut grass, the clouds in the sky were now streaks of white paint and the red leaves became uniforms, covering large, hulking athletes.

  The group was obviously having fun, fun that Dave wanted so badly to take part in. He turned toward Marie as if to seek permission to go play. Her eyes seemed to shoot him a look that screamed “No!” With a subtle huff, Dave slouched further and crossed his arms. Being unable to interact with his latest dream, Dave became annoyed by the fun and excitement it teased him with. Shouting and jumping alerted Dave that something exciting was taking place. The counselor had shifted his position and was now blocking the most important section of the transformed portal. In an attempt to see what his friends were in frenzy about, Dave’s head darted back and forth on either side of the counselor, attempting to see around him. The group jumped and cheered loudly as one of the hulking forms draped in red celebrated at one end of the emerald field.

  “Fuckin’ right.”

  It took Dave a moment before he realized that Marie and the counselor were both silently staring at him.

  “I appreciate your enthusiasm, Dave, but considering the subject matter, do you think that comment was appropriate?” The counselor spoke the way a disappointed parent does.

  “Are you even listening to anything we’re saying?” Anger was the only emotion left for Marie to use.

  “Sorry. I was…uh…somewhere else.”

  “Probably thinking about all the football games he’s missing by being here.”

  “That’s not…what I was…thinking about.” Dave couldn’t sincerely defend himself.

  “I honestly and truly think that if he was forced to choose between me and football, he’d choose football.”

  “I said I’m sorry. What do you want me to say? There’s nothing else I can…uhh“ Dave’s thought trailed off as he dejectedly looked down at the boring carpet.

  “It’s like he doesn’t care that we’re married when he watches those stupid games,” the words limped out of Marie’s mouth.

  Dave silently stared at Marie for a moment. He extended his hand along the couch, not fully committing to his need to comfort his wife. She noticed his hand. She was touched that Dave seemed to be genuinely hurt by her comment. She knew that something in him cared about her and her feelings. She swallowed her pride and anger. The silence was broken as her hand slowly began to slide toward his, causing the cushion between them to fold and crinkle. The counselor failed to notice this genuine moment as he jotted notes in his folder. Without looking up, he ruined the moment that could have been.

  “I’d like to talk a bit about fidelity.”

  The pride and anger was suddenly regurgitated back into Marie’s mind. She quickly reeled her hand back into her lap and began to spit a heated string of words toward the counselor. Dave’s now depressed hand sauntered back to him. For the first time in the session, Dave found it difficult to block out the conversation. He, once again, gazed around the room, wondering where his next vision could come from, desperately seeking an escape.

  “Are you just gonna sit there and say nothing?” Marie’s eyes judged his silence.

  “About what? Something that isn’t an issue?”

  “Not an issue? Are you serious?”

  “If there is a specific instance to which the two of you are referring to, I think it would be best to get it out into the open. Skirting around an issue, even a very volatile one, is very dangerous to a relationship.”

  “There is no issue.” Dave’s tone was serious.

  “Now, Dave, if something has happened that you’re scared or ashamed to bring up, that is completely understandable. We can-” the Counselor’s eloquent speech was abruptly stopped by Dave’s eyes.

  “Listen very carefully. I have NEVER cheated on Marie. I have never cheated on you! Not in college when we were dating, not while we’ve been married. Never. I have been completely faithful to this relationship.”

  “It isn’t that simple, Dave, and you know it.”

  “Now, normally I would not interrupt a back and forth between a couple, but I am unsure about what exactly this discussion is referring to. In order for me to help and advise, I need to know every detail about what both of you are feeling.”

  “As far as I know, yes, Dave has never cheated on me. But he does frequently give his attention to other women. Very frequently. Ones he has history with. He knows it bothers me, but he does it anyway.” Marie’s fragmented sentences dripped with sadness and anger.

  “First, you want me to care about my dog less, and now you want me to stop being friendly with people?”

  “Friendly and flirting are very different, David.”

  “You wanna know what the issue is? Here’s what happened. I was at a bar with friends a few weeks ago. My ex-girlfriend, the one before Marie, was at the same bar. We had a few drinks and caught up with each other. That’s it. Now, is that such a big deal?”

  “Four years is a long time to keep up with an ex-girlfriend, don’t you think?” Marie had never made the point to Dave before and she was curious as to how he’d respond to it.

  “She was my best friend for two years. I’m not just gonna throw that friendship away because you’re jealous of her. It’s not my fault you never had a boyfriend before me.”

  “See? He keeps doing it! He just turns everything back around on me.”

  “It’s the truth! You’re jealous. But you have no reason to be. I’m married to you. I’m just friends with her.”

  “We’ll, I’m glad you don’t rank me among your friends. I’m just your wife.” Marie tightly crossed her arms as she dug her tongue into her cheek, tears lightly building in her eyes.

  “O, my God…” Dave tightly shut his eyes, his frustration boiling over.

  As he opened them, he found the conversation again shifted into muffled state. He noticed that the shiny, new desk had taken on a much different shape. It became taller and longer, darker and older, stained and chipped. Sprouting out from the floor, as if they were plants, were two metallic stools that bloomed torn, black cushions.

  Appearing out of the corner of his eye was a woman. She was provocatively dressed, sporting clothes that revealed most of her curvy frame. She straddled the one of the stools and sipped a non-existent drink. She spun around, her pretty face now aimed toward Dave, who slid even further down the couch in a nervous attempt to avoid being seen by the woman. While staring off into space, she forced her shoulders back, pushing her breasts outward, and pulled her hair into a pony tail. A Siren-esque move that was quite familiar to Dave. The woman innocently smiled in his direction. She twisted back towards the bar and seemed to be conversing with the air hovering over the empty stool. As Dave focused on the stool, he wanted to occupy it. He wanted to be anywhere but trapped inside the tedious box he was stuck inside. But, after Marie’s heated explanation of her hatred for this particular woman, he thought it was best to avoid any interaction with her, even an imagined one.

  Like a stiff punch to the stomach, Marie entered his mind. Part of him felt guilty for fading into another day dream while part of him wanted to stay there. His guilt got the better of him as Dave looked to Marie to guidance back to reality. She was unable to help, though, as she was facing away from Dave, searching through her purse, determined to find something.

  He hoped that staring at the dullness of the floor would help focus him. Help return him to the bland reality of the counselor’s office. The floor seemed to have no effect. Dave was shocked as he looked up and saw not only his ex-girlfriend but also his mother sitting at the bar. The duo laughed together, most likely sharing embarrassing stories about Dave. The pack of his friends had somehow also reentered the room and joined the two women. The office seemed to shrink around Dave, becoming extremely cramped. The large group was now right up against the back of the counselor’s chair. Dave helplessly watched, waiting for the moment that his two worlds would collide. He looked away, furiously attempting to shake the images out of his head. The chocolate dog had returned as well and somehow had freed most of its body from the tiny spot in the wall; only one of its hind legs remained stuck. Regardless of its uncomfortable situation, it retained the unconditional smile and charming pant as it tilted its head to stare at Dave, its eyes begging for his attention.

  The imaginary bodies of friends and family drew closer and closer to Dave, sending a claustrophobic feeling piercing through his skin. Dave shifted out of his slouched position and firmly pushed his back against the rear of the couch. The half circle of people slowly tightened in on Dave, their voices became loud and overwhelming, but their words simply came out as nonsensical gibberish. His dog had somehow freed itself from the confines of the wall and joined the chaotic gathering. It hopped up on the couch, now occupying the awkward space that been separating Dave from his wife. Its thin tail wagged back and forth, coming dangerously close to smacking Marie in the face. Dave could do nothing but allow panic to overtake him as the loud mass of bodies continued to close in on him.

  The clear sound of a nose sniffling somehow forced everything in the room to freeze. Dave quickly snapped his head around to find the origin of the sound. The dog was now nowhere to be seen. Marie sat there, less than three feet away, teary and upset. As Dave looked around the room, all the figures slowly faded away. His head was beginning to clear itself of the chaos and confusion. It was in this moment of clarity Dave’s face shifted from uncomfortable dread to grim understanding.

  “Wow.” Dave audibly muttered as he sat up straight on the couch.

  He looked at his wife, finally understanding her issues and emotions. She hated that he gave his dog more attention than her. That he treated it special. She hated that he had fun with his friends without thinking about her. When, on her nights out, she constantly thought about him. She hated his mother. That she can’t let him become his own man. Most of all, Marie hated Dave’s flirtatious nature and the friendships he kept with women from his past. That he may still retain a miniscule amount of romantic feeling for those women. Everything suddenly became obvious to him. He couldn’t believe that it took him this long to understand. He realized, too, the reason why Marie’s sniffling nose, it could only have been Marie’s, freed him from his out of control day dream. The things causing problems in their relationship had all made appearances in the office, and all had been dismissed when Marie engaged Dave. It was clear to him now that his bond with Marie could not co-exist with the problems at hand.

  Dave swallowed the lump in his throat and stared at Marie. She turned toward him, still dabbing the droplets of water and mascara off her face. Their eyes locked, the space between them slowly losing its awkwardness. Marie clenched her teeth behind her soft, lightly pouted lips. She could see that Dave seemed to be taking the session to heart, that important thoughts were rushing through his head. The counselor sat across from the couple, a proud observer of the marriage he helped to fix. Dave held a stiff half smile on his face before he spoke,

  “I want a divorce.”

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